


Scelestus Animus

by PleasantlyWeird



Category: Cape Wrath | Meadowlands, Jack Donnelly - Fandom, Tom Hardy - Fandom
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, F/M, Multi, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 15:53:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleasantlyWeird/pseuds/PleasantlyWeird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Donnelly comes to America. He's Jack Donnelly. Don't be surprised by anything he does, says, imagines. This will be graphic in every sense of the word, you've been warned. This is not my usual romantic, redeeming sort of fic. There is nothing redeeming about Jack. He is a sick man, a sadist and this story will contain things that will make you uncomfortable. You've been warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A lift to the top

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Calliope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliope/gifts), [Mrs.Freddie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Mrs.Freddie).



> Tom Hardy is the visual for Jack Donnelly and a blond Kate Winslet is Dr. Werblin.  
> A huge thank you and eternal gratitude to the wonderful Calliope Smith for the banner.

Jack’s fists clench and unclench at his sides as he takes the lift to the top floor of the Wexler building. This whole court ordered therapy bullshit really gets on his wick. He hasn’t reoffended in six years; well at least he hasn’t been caught reoffending. And nothing near as serious as Grace has happened meaning he hasn’t caused anyone to die from his attentions. In his mind Jack has quite the handle on his appetites and for the system to decide that his transition to America should include seeing a therapist once a week is fucking bollocks.

Never in a million years would Jack have believed that they’d send him to another country to keep him safe. But that’s what happens when you know secrets that need to be kept. Especially when those secrets involve a judge’s son, his new bride and a particular kink involving sadism and pictures that happen to be in Jack’s possession. But immigration hadn’t budged on this caveat, even with the exchange of someone the State’s had deemed equally as undesirable into the care of mother England. And so now Jack Donnelly, convict and sadist extraordinaire, is headed for his first session with his mandated therapist.

Stepping out of the lift, Jack follows the signs to suite 801. He’s to take up with James Werblin, MD. _Well_ , he chuckles to himself, _at least they’d had the good sense to stick him with a male shrink_. Sidling up to the receptionists desk, Jack makes no effort to hide the fact that he’s staring down the red heads blouse as she looks up at him. He rolls his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other as he blatantly ogles her cleavage.

“Can I help you?” She asks, her voice straining to be pleasant as she strategically places her hand over her tits.

“Name’s Jack Donnelly, I have a one o’clock appointment with Dr. Werblin.”

Clicking some keys as her hands fly rapidly over the keyboard of the computer, red frowns at the screen and says, “I have a Mr. Lawrence Waters listed at one,” she says and frowns up at him, her painted lips pressed into a thin, scarlet line. This bitch knows it’s his real name but she’s being a cunt about it.

“Yeah, that would be my old name. Wot I used to answer to when I was a bad boy,” he sneers, leaning in closer over the desk. He stares hard at her breasts and licks his lips slowly, taking his time and making sure she feels completely violated by his stare. He leans back and smiles crookedly and says, “But I’m a good man now. So mind you I prefer Jack since I’ve changed. New name for a new man, yeah?”

“I’ll make a note of it,” red says and her face blushes violently so that her skin matches her hair. Jack imagines that she’ll either go home tonight and finger herself until she comes or she’ll scrub her pussy raw trying to feel clean after what he’s done here.

“Good girl,” he says in a low growl and heads over to the seat directly across from the reception desk. He stares at her while she pretends to work but he knows he has her shaken. He flicks his tongue out at her, convinced he can taste her anxiety and fear in the air and her eyes focus on the keyboard without fail until her phone buzzes. She breathes a sigh of relief and says to Jack, “The doctor is ready for you now,” and motions to a door off to the right of her desk.

Standing he rubs the outline of his cock slowly a couple of times because he knows she watching and can see his erection through his tight jeans. He kisses the air and he then winks at her before walking to the door. He hears her make a sound of disgust as he enters the office. “Cunt…” he calls out to her as he passes into the doorway.

“Close the door behind you,” says smooth and decidedly feminine voice before the figure behind it swivels around in the tall office chair.

He stands, mouth agape, staring at the figure in front of him. She’s blond, striking with piercing green eyes and a crooked, full mouth. The glasses perched on that patrician nose only serve to make her sexier and she has an air of confidence that has Jack’s cock on alert. His hand strays absently back to his erection that’s grown since he walked in here. It’s not that a confident woman turns him on; it’s more the fact that a seemingly confident woman such as this serves as a challenge. How much would he have to do to her to break that self-assurance? How long would he have to bite her skin, yank out her hair and rape her bum before she shattered and became the nothing he desired to make her?

The ache is killing him and he isn’t shy about fondling himself in front of her. He feels dazed as he imagines the five hundred ways he wants to fucking maul this uppity whore. She’s already died fifteen times in his imagination before she formally addresses him. His favorite scenario so far is she chokes to death on his cock while he rams it down her throat without mercy. He visualizes the burn marks down her back, the patches of missing hair on her head and the tears that flow as she suffocates…

“I’m Dr. Werblin,” she says and appears unperturbed by his frantic near-masturbation as he stands in the still-open doorway. “You must be Jack.”

“Where’s _James_ Werblin?” He asks, putting a sarcastic emphasis on the first name. He’s not dumb, he’s sure she’s James but he wants to give her the impression that he might not be that bright.

“That would be me. Come in and have a seat Jack, and close the door please.” She doesn’t take the bait and it disturbs him. He continues rubbing himself as he slams the door and slinks over to the chair obviously meant for him. It’s the typical psych patient chair. Oversized, comfortable, meant to put you at ease so you spill all your darkest secrets to the good doctor who writes down everything you say. Except Jack knows this drill; he’s been in some sort of therapy off and on since he was fourteen and he can play this game very well. How unfortunate for this woman that she got stuck with him

“So why do you have man’s name, baby?” He growls and winks at her as he leans back and thrusts his hips up into his hand. He moans lowly and chews harder on the toothpick.

Ignoring his question, Dr. Werblin opens the folder in front of her and pushes her glasses further back on her nose. “Convicted of torture and murder at fourteen, classified as having Psychiatric Sadism Disorder, Borderline personality disorder, sociopathic tendencies, and served minimal time since the crime was committed as a minor. Put into witness protection for reasons unstated here in the report, chose to leave within a year… yada, yada, yada…”

She throws the folder down on the desk and stares at him hard. He rubs at his crotch but she never takes her level gaze off of his face. He’s getting frustrated that he can’t get to her, that she’s not playing along like a fucking female always should.

“You should know Jack that I asked for your case. I find you utterly fascinating, to be blunt. I read everything they sent me about you and I have to say I really expected some sort of childhood trauma,” she says, leaning back in her seat and fondling her chin as she contemplates him. “But you, Mr. Donnelly, I truly believe you were just born this way. Unless there’s something in your past that no one has been able to pry from you.”

Apparently it’s his turn to talk because she purses her lips and folds her arms before looking at him expectantly. He’s too busy imagining what her tits would look like tied up with rope so tightly that they turned colour. He rubs at himself harder before unzipping his pants and pulling himself free. Dr. Werblin says nothing, shows no reaction when he starts jerking his cock and panting as he stares at her with his mouth hanging open. All he can see is his cock in her mouth and the tears, the sweet and salty tears of the pain he’s inflicting as they would flow down her creamy pale skin. He’d come in her mouth as she gasped unsuccessfully and died while he was inside of her.

The orgasm comes as he imagines her death rattle pulling him further down her gullet and his seed splatters the carpet and the front of her desk.

“Fuuuuuck...” he gasps and his whole body bucks as his muscles contract.

Standing, Dr. Werblin walks around her desk and grabs a box of tissues then tosses it onto his chest as he smiles up at her in a daze. He spits his toothpick at her as she passes him.

“I hope that loosened you up a bit. I’m going for a coffee. I’ll be back in about ten and then I’ll attempt this session with you again. Please clean up and be ready to talk when I return.”

Jack laughs, the sound like the cawing of a lecherous old crow, and watches her ass wiggle beneath her skirt as she walks out of the office.

“Unflappable cunt,” he rasps and grabs a handful of tissues to clean up his spill. She’s got him intrigued for sure. He was certain that when he whipped out his cock and flogged it she’d request that he be reassigned to some other head hunter. But she wants him to talk and talk he will. He’ll give her graphic descriptions of what he did to Grace and others since her. And while he’s not responsible for more than one death he’s made a few wish they were dead after he was finished. Already, in his mind, he’s plotting how he can add her face to his mental wall of victims.

 


	2. Mr. Fourteen

Jack’s cock is still outside of his pants when Dr. Werblin comes back into the office. Jack smiles when he sees her glance at it and then quickly avert her eyes. He reaches down and pulls his balls out to rest on top of the denim of his pants.

Sitting down primly behind the desk, Dr. Werblin clears her throat and closes her eyes briefly before she speaks.

“I’ll need you to put your genitals away, Jack. I was lenient with your indecent display, hoping it might bridge some gap that would help you relax and open up to the therapy but please know that I will not tolerate any such further nonsense.” Leaning back into her seat she pulls her glasses out of her pocket and puts them on.

“You don’ need them glasses. Wot are they? Your security blanket? You feel smarter when you wear them?” He’s doing his best to get further under her skin. He knows that she’d fully expected to walk back into her office and find him ready to spill his guts. Now it’s all about keeping up the momentum.

“Please remember as well Jack that your cooperation is necessary to remain in the program that brought you here. Let me make this clear to you,” she says and he notices an edge to her voice that wasn’t there before, “You will not be reassigned to another doctor. I am your only option and should I decide that I cannot help you or that you are totally resistant to therapy you will lose your status in the program and be shipped back to England. Have I made myself clear?”

Jack feels his blood pressure rise rapidly. Nothing can bring his ire to fore quicker than an uppity female on a power trip.

“You fucking…”

“Now,” she interrupts him and picks up the folder again, bringing out a photo that she tosses in front of him. “Put your penis and testicles back in your pants and let’s talk about Grace Diamond.”

Jack sits up straight in the chair and stuffs himself back inside his jeans. He glares his most malicious expression as he zips up.

“Why the fuck you want me to talk about it? I’m sure it’s all right there in ya little folder, doctor.”

“Yes, the clinical details of what you did to her are here in print but,” she sighs and lays the folder down again dramatically, “it doesn’t tell me what you experienced nor does it clarify in any way why you did it. I want to know why her, why then. What was your trigger? These are things that only you can tell me. I theorize that if we can get to the bottom of the reasons behind your behavior perhaps I can truly help you.”

She pulls the picture of Grace’s corpse in all it’s bloodied, bruised and tortured glory from Jack and stares at it. She shows no disgust or fear; in fact her face is rather blank and it causes Jack to cock an eyebrow at her.

“So what if there’s no help for the likes of me? What if I don’t want to change? What if, doc,” he murmurs and leans in to take the picture out of her hands, “I like the way I am? Would it shock you to know that every time I wank off I’m remembering how I bound her, burned her and bit her? Would you be interested to know that I always blow my load when I remember how she cried?”

Jack lifts the picture to his face and licks along the image, tasting the chemicals used to develop it. It’s antiseptic on his tongue but in his imagination he’s remembering the salty, coppery tang of her blood. For a second he’s lost in his own sick reverie, reliving that moment when Mr. Fourteen became a stone cold killer. As she’d lain there, breathing her last, he’d fucked her and had waited until she’d passed before coming so that he could add necrophilia to his criminal resume. Mr. Fourteen, as he calls his younger self, hadn’t even known what the actual term for fucking a corpse had been. It had been the first and last foray into that particular kink. If they weren’t crying, pleading and showing extreme pain then it didn’t do it for him.

“Boring.”

One word and he’s snapped to attention and breathing heavily through flared nostrils.

“Excuse me?”

She couldn’t have been more offensive if she’d taken a shit in his hand. Him? Boring? He could be classified as a million different things but boring would never be acceptable to Jack.

“I know this game. I’ve watched the tapes of you with other doctors. You say things to get a rise out of us and when you do it goes into your mental file of so-called victories. Licking a picture of your murder victim? What a blasé and a pitiful attempt to shock me; almost as pathetic as masturbating like an oversexed teenager in my office.”

Dr. Werblin leans back in her seat and cocks her head sideways as if to look at him from a different angle.

“Frankly Jack, I expected more from you. I mean, you’ve had six years to come up with something different, a new act I suppose you could call it. But I’m starting to wonder if you’re a true sadist or if you’re just some pathetic man who accidentally killed a woman when he was a mere boy of fourteen. Everything you’re saying and doing today, well I think we both know you’ve already put on this show several times before for other doctors. Your lack of honestly and self-insight is boring.”

She spins in her chair, turning her back to him causing his anger to skyrocket. What kind of stupid slag would turn her back on a dangerous man like he is? He undoes his belt and silently slides it out of his loops.

“I suppose right now you’re taking your belt off and fantasizing about asphyxiating me with it,” Dr. Werblin says and Jack can hear the mockery in her voice. “I might be terrified if I didn’t see right through you.

Jack feels deflated suddenly and drops his belt onto the floor. He sags back down into the chair and looks up at the ceiling as he fidgets with his cap.

“What do you want to know?” He asks, his words coming out with a gush of breath. He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out his container of toothpicks. Popping one into his mouth he watches as Dr. Werblin spins back to face him, this time a sly smile rests on her face.

“Let’s start with your parents. What kind of people were they?”

Jack rolls his eyes and laughs.

“My mum and dad were alright. Neither one of them fucked me if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I wasn’t wondering that at all,” she replies and starts to write. “Using one word, how would you describe your childhood?”

“Boring,” he says laughing because he thinks he’s being clever.

“I bet it was anything but. Tell me Jack, did you ever find something that belonged to your mom or dad that surprised you or shocked you?”

Jack takes a sharp breath in and stares at the doctor. How could she know that? He doesn’t trust himself to answer but surprises himself by doing that very thing.

“There was… I mean, I found a videotape once, under my dad’s truck seat.”

“And you watched it?” She asks without looking up from her notepad. The sound of the pen scratching out words makes Jack visibly bristle but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Yeah, I snuck it into the house and played it when they were both at work.”

“And how old were you at this time?”

“I supposed I was just thirteen.”

Dr. Werblin looks up from her notes and he watches her face change slightly. She’s heavily contemplating what he’s just said and he can’t fathom why.

“What?” He asks self-consciously and scratches at his neck nervously.

“I suppose I figured this would have been earlier in your childhood. For the transition to occur in less than a year’s time is...,” she taps her pens on the paper rapidly and then takes a deep breath in before continuing, “I’m getting ahead of myself. Tell me , Jack what was on this tape?”

“It was porn,” he breathes knowing it’s on

“But it wasn’t just what one might consider run of the mill pornography was it?”

Jack feels a chill run up his spine. He’s not sure if it’s because he feels like the doctor has a direct line of sight into his memories due to her accuracy or if it’s because he can still remember the movie frame for frame all these years later.

“No,” he whispers gruffly, “it wasn’t.”

“Tell me about it. What was on that tape, Jack?”

“There was a woman and… she was being raped. She wasn’t fucking this man because she wanted to; he was forcing her, using his fists on her, making her bleed. This wasn’t acting…”

“And at thirteen, did this arouse you sexually?”

“Not the actual act that was happening, no.”

“So what was it about the tape that excited you? Was it the woman’s fear? Her screams as she was abused and taken against her will?”

“No.” He mutters, shaking his head.

“What was it that triggered the response in you?” The doctor questions and finds herself leaning towards him unconsciously.

Jack doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want to admit the reason to himself let alone to another living soul.

“Jack, be honest. I think you’re on the verge of a breakthrough,” she encourages, leaning forward onto her elbows.

“It was because… because I knew it was wrong and because I knew my dad wanked off watching it. My dad, the most normal bloke in the universe who ate the same thing for breakfast every morning, who told the same corny jokes at every family get together, he got off on watching a woman get brutalized, got off on watching her die at the end. Somehow he knew people who could get him this sort of… filth.”

“I think we can stop here for today, Jack.”


End file.
